Tunnels are Less Terrifying When There's a Light at the End
by camelcircuit
Summary: Izuku has had a very bad day. With the culmination of his mother's overprotective behavior, his best friend's aggressive approach, and his all time favorite hero destroying his dreams, Izuku thinks that problems would disappear if he were to too.
1. Chapter 1

Izuku's door closes behind him as his feet pad down the hall, alerting Inko that he's finally woken up. She gives a soft smile as he stumbles into the room, his hands trapped in his curls as he tries to scratch his head. His eyebrows furrow against his forehead as he tilts his head sideways to try and dislodge his fingers from his curls. He pulls this way and that, his hands only seemingly getting more lost like a child in a darkened maze.

Inko turns her head towards the table as she places their bowls of rice against the wood. Their gentle clacking and the sound of Izuku's feet padding towards her allow for a small moment of calm to swaddle her heart. She looks back up to see Izuku walking sideways, heading straight for the coffee table as he shakes his hands more and more vigorously against his hair. The bottoms of his All Might pajamas slowly wrap around his ankles like hissing snakes.

"Um….Izuku," she tries to call quietly, "Izuku, the coffee tabl-'' She gets cut off by a loud crash. "Oh dear!" she hurries past the dinning table in favor of the living room, "Oh, my baby! Are you hurt? How many times have I told you to brush your hair? Oh my goodness, oh my dear goodness, I'm sure I've told you to be careful. What if you had been hurt? Are you hurt? Do we have time to go to the hospital before you have to leave for school? I'm sure we can make time," she calls as she speeds to get her purse from the next room.

"M-Mom! I-I'm fine, really!" Izuku pops back up from the ground, finally freeing his hand from his curls. He wiggles his fingers towards her, smiling like a small, greater value All Might, "Got it!"

Inko turns towards him from the doorway, her purse and a bento box in her hands. She hurries towards him, dropping her things on the couch as she passes by. She pats at his hair and shoulders, giving small glances across him to check for injuries. "Are you sure? It's no trouble. The hospital is a small walk. Well, you know with all the heroes you follow around in this area. Are you sure? Are you worried you can't make it that far? Oh no, my poor baby. We'll call an ambulance instead." She rushes towards the phone.

"M-Mom!" Izuku rushes to calm his overly anxious mother down, placing himself between his mother and the landline. He gives a small internal flinch towards her tendency to worry too much. "I-I'm fine! I promise." Her face briefly calms before flashing into alarm as he continues, "But," he says. The panic flies against her face, a million reasons for the 'but' throwing all of her typical logic out the window. What if he's hurt? What if he got a bruise? Or a scrap? Or internal bleeding? Oh no, she has to call the ambulance before her poor baby bleeds out on the floor in front of her-

"But," he continues, "I would be even better after some breakfast," he says, an attempt to redirect her overly motherly instincts into another, more convenient form of mothering. He shows her his teeth, trying his best to smile at her in a comforting way.

Inko sighs against her worries, trying to push them out through her mouth and bring in better thoughts through her nose. "Of course, honey, it's just about ready." She dusts imaginary dirt off of his shoulders before tucking her hands against her chest. "Could you brush your hair for me, while I finish setting the table?" she gently suggests, holding her hands against her slowly calming heart.

Izuku nods his head. He pulls himself towards the bathroom in an attempt to placate his mom, but he knows better than to try and get a brush through his hair. He turns on the sink, the sound of the faucet ringing through his ears. He can hear his mom humming from the next room, easing some of his minute frustrations against her.

He dips his fingers in the cold water and runs it through his hair in an attempt to control his curls. He knows that she has the best of intentions. He knows that he's lucky to have her, and to have a mother that is willing to care so much for him. But sometimes he wishes that she wouldn't drive herself sick from worrying. He sometimes wonders if this is normal. If she would do this whether he was quirkless or not, but he can't help the small pit of guilt that dives into his stomach everytime he thinks about it.

He's lucky to have her, he reminds himself.

His chest tightens inside his loose t-shirt. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. He wets his fingers again and runs them through his hair to try and calm himself down. They catch briefly in a tangle before freeing themselves, sending his stomach through a spinning tunnel.

He opens his eyes and glances up and away from the faucet.

He hates looking at himself in the mirror.

Freckles dust his cheeks like dirt on the side of the road. His hair twists like incessant weeds. And his plain face is one that even he forgets sometimes. Half of his height comes from his hair, his shoulders jut out in sharp angles and yet his cheeks cling to years of baby fat like a toddler clinging to their favorite toy in their sticky wet hands.

He smiles at the mirror in his best approximation of All Might, but he can't help but think that it looks like a cheap, poorly made copy that you would find on discount in a 100 yen shop. It looks more like a grimace, his gums a red shock against the rest of his face, his cheeks pulling tight around his ears.

His eyes wander across his face as he holds his smile.

It makes sense to him that he would be quirkless.

He should have known sooner, shouldn't have needed to wait for the doctor to tell him.

Kacchan says he's worthless. A Deku.

And he's right.

How can he fault his only friend for telling him the truth, when one of the reasons he loves Kacchan so much is for his candidness, even if it hurts sometimes.

It only hurts because he's weak. Because he's right and he always will be, and Izuku wishes more than anything that he wasn't.

The smile slides off of his face like ice cream on a hot day. His chest hurts. His lungs burn. His stomach feels as if it were full of rotten stomach acid. He takes deep breaths to calm himself down until it feels as if he's pulling from a dry well. The bucket gets smaller and smaller as he tries to pull in as much air as he can, but the well is getting far too deep and he doesn't have a rope that's nearly long enough to reach it. He tries to breathe in, but it feels as if All Might were sitting on his chest, squishing his diaphragm and crushing his lungs.

His head feels as if it were stumbling.

His knees feel as if they were made out of jello, deconstructed and put back together in the wrong order until they can't hold any semblance of weight.

"Izuku! Breakfast is ready!"

He yanks his arms forward, dousing his fingers in the faucet. His unfocused eyes zero in on the cold seeping into his knuckles. He splashes it against the flush in his cheeks.

He glances back into the mirror, careful not to look for too long.

He hates looking at himself.

He looks back down at his knuckles and tries to ignore the heat gathering under his eyelids. He smiles like All Might. Like everything could be okay if he just smiled. His teeth feel too big for his face like they would fall out if he left his mouth open for too long. His smile feels more like a grimace and it's a painful reminder that he can never be his favorite hero. Or any hero at all, really.

He takes a deep breath and turns off the faucet.

"Coming!" he shouts back.

He jumbles into the living room, his normally bouncy curls damp against his forehead. The chair squeaks as he sits down, the wood digging into his shoulder blades.

"Thank you for the food!" he chimes.

"Let's eat!"

Izuku picks up his chopsticks, pointedly ignoring the slight shaking in his hands. He focuses on looking at his mom instead.

He likes to look at her hair. It's straight and tumbles towards the ground like a waterfall. He can almost see the way gravity grabs at its ends and pulls.

He pushes his arm towards his mouth and shoves his chopsticks between his teeth, ignoring the feeling of sand filling the space between his bones. His stomach turns under the weight of rice in his throat. He chews as slowly as he can, wishing he wouldn't have to swallow.

"The food is good," he tells his mother. He gulps down rice and bile.

He catches her grin with the tops of his eyes.

"What do you have planned for today?" she asks him.

Izuku's mind blanks.

"U-um. I'm…." His brain flounders like a fish in shallow water before diving back into functionality. He grins, "I'm applying to U.A. today!" He pumps his fist against the air. Excitement infects his cheeks, making him pull them back and smile until they push his eyes closed.

Inko smiles towards him in a way that lacks her typical swaddling warmth. She'd use the word _tired _to describe it if _frustrated _weren't a more adept term. "Izuku," she says as lovingly as she can, her words pulled down by exasperation. He opens his eyes to blink owlishly at her. His grin slowly migrates off of his face, dripping off of his chin and landing in his bowl.

Inko smiles at him to communicate that everything is okay, but her cheeks pull taunt against her face. "We talked about this," she insists. The millions of reasons as to why her baby can't apply to U.A. flash through her mind before she lands on one that wasn't as harsh as reality. "You know that we don't have enough money for you to attend U.A."

"No, no, I _know_. I-I just f-figur-"

Inko cuts him off by picking up the bowls in front of him. Her smile is gone, replaced by furrowed brows. She stands up, pushing back the chair behind her.

"I said no. Your father works very hard for the money that we have and I refuse to waste a cent of it."

He flinches when he hears her say, 'waste.' No matter how hard he tries, he wishes he could dispute that word and with no luck. Izuku scrambles behind her, trailing her to the kitchen, his fingers twitching at a mile a minute. "But-Bu-But _mom_-"

"I said _no_, Izuku. End of discussion." The bowls clatter into the sink. Inko turns away from the kitchen, walking back towards the dining table.

"B-But they have scholarships, and, and if I could _just-_"

"But you can't!" she interrupts. Her voice climbs, forcing their walls against the two of them. "You know you can't! You're not like everyone else."

"But, I-I _can_. If you would just listen-"

"I've listened enough, Izuku." He wishes she wouldn't say his name like that. Like he was a disappointment. Like she expects better from him when he's already giving his best. Like she was tired of hearing him speak and seeing him be.

Like she would be happier if he just wasn't there.

His given name in her mouth is like a pile of rocks on her tongue and feels like a blow to his chest.

"Now it's time for you to listen." He can see her hands shake against her apron from across from the table. Tears gather in her eyes as if she loathes to say what she will, but she plows on regardless. To save her baby. "I know you better than anyone else. And I know what you're capable of," she pleads. "I gave you life and I have seen you create from it what you will. But this is something that I cannot let you do. You don't understand how fragile you are, how much I've had to protect you." Her stomach drops from below her. Her voice cracks and her eyes burn, but she needs to stay strong for him. "I won't ever stop protecting you. It's a mother's job and if that means I have to be the bad guy then so be it." She puffs her chest and pulls back her shoulders before looking him in the eye, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"You can't be a hero.

"I'm sorry, Izuku. I'm so sorry. But you just can't," tears soak into her cheeks and it's getting harder to understand her from all of the snot, but she maintains eye contact with him as if he were no better than a dog that had peed on the carpet.

"How many times do we have to have this discussion, Izuku?" Exhaustion pulls at the end of her eyes, coating her voice."How many times do I have to tell you? How many times are you going to make me _say it_?" Inko's cheeks feel as warm as her eyes and make her feel like she's on fire. It's getting harder for her to breathe, her breath coming in increasingly smaller gasps.

Izuku's head dips against the weight of her stare. He doesn't want to look at her and he wishes she would look away from him. He thinks of the weeds in his hair, and the dirt on his cheeks. He wishes she didn't have to look at him. She deserved so much better than him for a son.

"Tell me, Izuku, how many times do I have to say it?"

He can't look at her. Her voice sits in his chest like an ill fitted weight and it hurts. It's stretching out his heart until it's sore and frail. Why did he have to cause her so much pain? Why couldn't he be everything she wanted? Why can't he give up on his dream of being a hero?

He's so sorry for the pain he's caused.

_Look at her_, he thinks. _Look at what you're good for. She hates you. How could she not? Look at her. She deserves better than anything you could ever be._

Izuku keeps his head down. He wishes he could stop thinking. He shuts his mind down, refusing to listen to her and refusing to think. His voice rings out clear and monotone, like a spark in a room full of dynamite, "Say what, mom?"

Inko sighs, scrutinizing his face from across the room. He can feel her eyes roaming over him. She sighs again to calm her rarely raised temper.

"I know it's not fair…." she starts off softly, her voice cocooning his ears before a sharp edge returns to her voice. She shoves her words into his ears, forcing him to understand, "But you can't do what other people do. You're quirkless."

"I-I," His sniffles fill the sudden silence of the room, tension breathing through the walls of their home. He wishes the words inside his mind would just stop.

Tears slip past his eyelids, dampening his eyelashes and stuffing his nose. He looks away from the ground in search of his mother's eyes. Red rings quickly forming around his eyes as they continue to dump warm water against his cheeks.

His voice cracks, trying its best to stay in his throat. He has to start his sentence over multiple times before finally being able to stutter out, "I just want to be a hero." His stomach pulls him in until he's doubled over. His shoulders tuck neatly into his ribcage and cocoon his creaking heart in walls of bone.

Her heart breaks all over again, cracks reforming from the glue she has to put there regularly. No matter how much she loves her child, she can't help but wish that he would listen to her. Or maybe that he didn't want to be a hero, or maybe that he had a quirk. But more than anything, she wishes this pain would go away.

"You're fourteen," she tries to rationalize as gently as she can. "You don't know what you want."

He flinches, eyes turning back towards the ground.

"I-I have to go to school," he blurts out before taking off towards the door, tripping against his All Might pajama pants.

"Izuku," she calls after him, her feet rooted to the ground. "Your uniform!"

He scrambles for his bag, his feet sliding into his clunky red shoes.

The sound of the door opening rouses Inko from her frozen thoughts, "I love y-" she tries to call out, getting cut off by the slam of the front door.

Her heart flinches against the sound, feeling empty and damp. She only hopes that he'll be able to see reason.

She can only hope that this will be the last time that she's left crying in the middle of their living room.

Izuku stumbles down the front steps, stamping his feet into his shoes as he walks. Goosebumps trickle up his arms, reaching the end of his shirt sleeve as the brisk morning air hits him. His feet carry him away from his home, his heart feeling cold and his cheeks flushed.

He wipes away the snot from underneath his nose. His wrist feels wet as he pulls it away and he rubs it against his pajamas, careful to avoid All Might's faces.

His shoulders feel like big boulders on his sides. Momentum swings him side to side not caring for balance. A fire starts in his lungs and spreads to his legs as he starts to run as fast as he can.

His legs move faster until he's sprinting, his shoulders hunched over as he tries to breath against the mask his snot has cast.

His feet slam into the pavement, shoving vibrations up his legs. It's enough to make him stumble every other step until he's two blocks away and darkening a familiar doorstep.

He stares at the bright red door until it's burned into his vision and he has to squint through the water in his eyes. He's trying to work up the courage to knock, to stop crying, to breathe properly, but none of those options seem to be working.

His knees thump against the porch.

His lungs fluctuate under his ribcage, his intestines slowly wrapping around his stomach until he feels strangled.

His nose burns with the breath that he brings in and he can't help the thoughts that flash through his head.

"Why why why why why," he whispers to the floor board.

Why can't he do something as simple as breathing?

He takes a step back in his mind. He makes a list in his head, of all the things he likes about himself to help himself calm down.

He likes…. His….

Why can't he think of anything?

He can't think back past the goddamn snot in his nose.

Air burns on the way down his throat, and sets fire to his chest.

All he can think about is the small little boy that lets people break his heart and stomp on his bones.

That's not someone to like. That's not anyone he's proud of.

This helpless little boy that cowers in the corner as people run through his mind and wreak havoc on his dreams.

And he just lets them. He watches them with tears in his eyes, powerless to stop them.

Too weak and far too scared.

He's afraid that if he were to say something that no words would come out. But he's more afraid of what would happen if they did. Afraid that if he lifted his voice above a whisper that someone would hear him.

They would hear him and they would turn to him. They would see a small, shaking boy in the corner and they would laugh like fire until it burned and he wished he hadn't spoken at all.

His knees dig into the painted floorboards.

He tucks his head between his knees. The top of his head dusts the ground and he realizes just how cold it is. Chills are running up and down his spine, chastising him for his lack of a coat, but his face feels flushed and swollen and stuffy. He presses his cheeks into the floorboards, his hands tucked against his stomach.

He breathes in and out through his mouth, trying to think only of the cold pressed into his face. He tries to forget that what he's doing is strange and he should just knock and maybe that will take his mind off of this morning.

But he's scared. And he knows that's stupid, and that it's a useless emotion, but he can't help the pit in his stomach that takes residence whenever he thinks of pounding his fist against that bright red door.

He's so tired of thinking and so he runs along the interior of his brain flipping all of the switches that he can until he's just a boy sitting on a porch with his head tucked between his knees.

He tries to laugh at himself, but it comes out as more of a sob.

_I'm pathetic._

The door slams from above him.

"Tch. It's too early to find dog shit sitting on my porch, _Deku_."

Izuku looks up at him through the water in his eyes. He can't remember why he was afraid anymore. Kacchan will make it all better, he always does.

"Kacchan," he sniffles, grinding the palm of his hand into the back of his eyes. _It hurts_, he wants to say, but what comes out is, "Can I borrow a uniform?"

"You useless Deku, you can't even do your own laundry? Hah!" He leaves the door open as he walks back into the house and stomps up the stairs.

He stumbles after him, the feeling slowly coming back to his legs.

"Izuku, good morning."

Izuku turns to see his uncle Masaru sitting at the kitchen table with a mug, a book and a small pinch between his eyebrows.

Izuku thinks about the tears itching against his cheeks, the red that hugs his eyes and his snot-filled pajama pants. His shoulders sag down a millimeter as the weight of his guilt settles uncomfortably around them.

_I'm not worth his worry_.

A smile plucks his cheeks until his eyes close and he doesn't have to look at the concern between his uncle's eyebrows anymore.

"Good morning, Uncle Masaru!" he chimes as cheerfully as he can. His voice feels skinned and dry, but he takes care not to stutter against his words.

"I wish you would visit more often. Why don't you have some breakfast while you're waiting to walk Katsuki to school."

"N-No, th-that's not-"

"Like _hell _I'd let a quirkless deku walk me to school!" Katsuki shouts as he barges into the room and slams a uniform into Izuku's hands.

"Language," Masaru intones, waving his hand gently in Katsuki's direction, not bothering to look back up from his book.

"Yeah, yeah, old man." He glances at Izuku before making his way towards the door, "No stains, yah hear me?! And it better be washed when I get it back!"

"Sure thing, Kacchan!"

Izuku stares at him, waiting for him to leave so he can wish him a good day. But he just stands there looking back at him.

"You gonna make me wait here all day?! We're gonna be late, you piece of shit! Hurry the hell up."

"R-Right! Sorry, Kacchan!" He scrambles towards the door.

"Don't stutter, yah nerd! It makes you look like a loser," he grumbles.

Izuku turns from the kitchen doorway and makes sure to make eye contact with Katsuki. He clenches his hands in front of him. A fire kindles in his eyes, drying out the dampness that had been there before.

"Right!" he says.

Katsuki smirks at him, "Hah, that's better." He looks down at Izuku's clenched fists. "Don't fucking scrunch my uniform! You're gonna wrinkle it!"

The door clicks behind them as they leave and Izuku can't remember why he was ever afraid of that red door. It was a silly fear, Izuku concludes.

They walk in silence for the most of the way to school, until Izuku can't take it anymore. You'd think that after all of these years that he would learn to sit in the silence, but his muttering pours out of his mouth like a rusty dam finally breaking.

He talks about everything that's willing to distract him from the silence, and anything that could detract from his thoughts.

"How are your parents? Are they doing well? Uncle looked like he was doing well, but looks can be deceiving. I hope he's doing well. Have you talked to him lately? Has he been eating well? Speaking of food, what do you think we're having for lunch? I hope it's katsudon. Do you think it'll be katsu-?"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

Izuku's mouth closes with a click.

Katsuki stops, farther along the road than him. He keeps his back turned to Izuku, his chest moving in big gulps. He stands there in silence for a few moments and this time Izuku makes sure to leave it as it is.

"...What did you fight about this time?" he eventually asks, his voice just short of gentle.

His tone still carries a bite, but Izuku chooses to focus on his words. And not his thoughts. Because he's not thinking. Thoughts hurt and Izuku doesn't like hurting so he's not thinking.

"Fight? What fight? I'm not fighting. Are you fighting? I'm not fighting." He starts shaking his head back and forth, his curls shaking against his forehead. "Nope," he pops the 'p', "nu uh. No fight here. I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not fighting," he reiterates. "Are you fighting?"

"Spill it, Deku," he growls.

Izuku thinks about what he would say if he told Katsuki that he fought with his mom about applying to U.A. He thinks about the fire that would start in his eyes and explode out of his palms if he told him.

Izuku tries to tell himself that his shoulders are shaking from the cold, but he knows better.

"I-it," stupid stuttering; he tries to start over, "It… doesn't m-matter. It was n-nothing." He closes his eyes and lets a wave of shame pass over him and waits for it to pull back before continuing, "It w-w-wasn't a big d-deal."

"Like shit it wasn't a big deal!" Izuku tries his best not to flinch. Sometimes he wishes his best friend's voice wasn't as explosive as his quirk. "Now spill it." he growls.

He briefly considered telling Katsuki that they had been arguing about him falling over. It wouldn't technically be a lie and he's sure that Katsuki is going to laugh at him either way, but the idea makes his stomach churn like spoiled milk.

So instead he does the next best thing: "We're going to be late!" he shouts, taking off towards the school and running through the now empty courtyard holding up his pants.

He hears explosions behind him, "YOU SHITTY DEKU! GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!"

Izuku's feet thud throughout the hallways, Katsuki's explosions having gone silent since they entered the building.

They race past their teacher down the hall, "No running in the hallway!" he shouts at their backs.

"Fuck you!" Katsuki shouts over his shoulder just as they reach the door to their classroom. His fingers just barely wrap around Izuku's (Katsuki's?) uniform. He yanks hard enough to make Izuku gag, his coughing fit drowned out by the bell going off.

Their teacher walks up behind them, smacking both of their heads with a well rolled newspaper. "Sit down," he chastises.

"Shut up, you hag!" Katsuki shouts as he nonetheless heads towards his seat, hands tucking into his pockets. Izuku scurries behind him, quick to get out of the teacher's way, stumbling on Katsuki's too long pants. Giggles swallow the air around him and he can feel a nuclear blush surrounding his cheeks.

Even the teacher at the front has a smirk on his face.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU SHITTY EXTRAS."

The room falls silent while Bakugou glares ahead of him.

The newspaper smacks the desk in front of the teacher. "All right," he calls, " Now that we're all settled," he pauses to clear his throat, "we're going to talk about your applications for your chosen high schools. We'll start with a simple survey of your top three choices and then you'll be able to review some of the more popular choices with your homeroom teacher later today."

Izuku can see Katsuki's shoulders get tense from his lax position at his desk.

_He knows, doesn't he?_ Izuku closes his eyes to the thought, unwilling to put words to it.

The teacher pulls a stack of papers out of a folder. "Class president, please distribute and then gather these in 10 minutes. I don't want to hear any talking."

Izuku says a small prayer in his mind, thanking All Might that Katsuki won't be able to come over and further interrogate him.

The person in front of him passes him back a paper with 4 lines on it. He takes his time writing his name, frightful to reach the actual assignment. His fingers shake minutely against his pencil. He holds it tighter in his hand, the pencil digging holes into the pads of his fingers.

He scribbles a large _Aldera High School_ on the first line. His hand shakes harder the more he thinks.

It's not that he thinks that he can become a hero, or that he could even get into U.A. It's that he's thought about this his whole life. Every dream he's ever had has centered around All Might and this school is the first step towards that. And he knows that he's a klutz. And he's going to take that first step and he's going to trip, but he can't just give up everything he's ever wanted.

Not without trying as hard as he can first.

He knows he won't make it, that he would be better suited for general studies or maybe even the support department, but his thoughts drag him back to when he was young. Younger than when he knew what it meant to have his dreams crushed and he pictures that little boy sitting in a chair and shouting about All Might.

He used to be so happy. He's just trying to make his way back to that, and if applying to U.A. will aleve his guilt for falling when he takes his first step then he'll take it. He knows that he can't be a hero. But he can't stand the thought of not applying; of not trying his best; of leaving that kid behind him.

And so, on the second line, he scribbles a quick _U.A. High School: general department._

And underneath it, even quicker, he writes _U.A. High School: hero department._

The class president pauses in front of his desk to collect his sheet. He flips it over as quickly as he can, trying to hide his answers on the sheet. He passes it up to them. He avoids eye contact when he stumbles out a quick, "Th-th-" He takes a deep breath and starts again slower than before, "Thank you."

He grins at his desk as they walk to the next row. _I did it_.

The teacher clips the surveys together, Izuku's sheet drowned in a sea of other kid's dreams. "Alright, now pull out your workbooks and turn to page 98."


	2. Chapter 2

Contentment coddled Izuku's heart and swallowed his stomach whenever he thought back to turning in his assignment this morning. A warm flush fills his cheeks and he was barely able to stop himself from grinning widely at his desk. His thoughts twirled around him as if they were ballerinas and it was hard to focus his attention elsewhere.

His eyes felt heavy in his skull, until they drew closed of their own volition. His thoughts cradled his cheeks and gave him warm hugs. A wide kernel of warmth floated somewhere between his chest and abdomen. His shoulders slouched further into his seat until it would have taken all of his effort and attention to raise himself back up.

And just for a moment he allowed himself to settle into a picture of peace. He felt hope sprawl from inside his intestines until he believed that just maybe he could be better than he was.

"You're also going for U.A., aren't you, Midoriya?"

Izuku jolts in his seat, opening his eyes to see a room full of people staring at him. He can feel their laughter reverberate in his bones and echo in his chest. He must have looked ridiculous, smiling at the air. Everything felt too loud, too bright, and too much. He felt as if he had been floating in a river when suddenly he started drowning and it became increasingly harder for him to gasp for breath. Colors wash over him in waves and for every shade there seems to be ten noises to tag along that wants to swallow him until he is well and truly digested. He buries his head in his arms trying to block out the sound and to cover his eyes until he feels a small semblance of relief return to him.

He hears a fist slam into his desk and his eyes startle open. He stares into malevolent red eyes and thinks of the bright red door from this morning.

_So that's why I was so scared_, he thinks.

Katsuki's hand reaches out and grabs at Izuku's shirt. He yanks at him until Izuku is roughly pulled halfway out of his chair, left to crouch in a position that burns his thighs. He can feel Katsuki's knuckles against his collarbone and his muscles shake like he's a worm trapped in a bird's mouth.

"Kacch- Kacchan. Please-"

Katsuki glares at him from above and Izuku can't help but feel like a pebble stuck in his shoe. He feels as if he were rolling around only to be continuously crushed underneath Katsuki's foot. The warmth in his body seeps out of him, coming to a point at his collarbone against Katsuki's fist. Katsuki's lip draws back as his eyes roam over the smaller boy's face. Disgust rolls off of him in waves, right alongside his anger. His fist clenches into Izuku's shirt.

"Y-You're going to wrin-wrinkle your-"

He stops when he looks into the blonde's eyes.

He just looked so _mad_.

"Auntie is a goddamn saint for dealing with your shit," he snarls. Izuku freezes.

That hadn't been what he was expecting.

His shoulders tense until it feels as if his spine was ironed out and delicately placed back. "She had to raise you _by herself _because your dad left the moment he found out you were quirkless." A hush falls over the class when he says that word. No one was laughing anymore. "And you're going to leave her by herself _again_ when you get yourself killed."

Katsuki shakes Izuku off of him like he can't stand the thought of touching him anymore. He kicks back his seat, slamming his feet onto his desk, stubbornly refusing to look back at him.

Izuku slowly lowers himself to his seat, relieved that he can't hear his classmates laughing at him anymore, only to come to the realization a minute later that everyone was silent.

And they were staring at him as if they had orbs for eyes and he had triangles.

His heart beat feels painful in his chest. Everyone kept looking at him like they were expecting him to say something. Even the teacher looked uncomfortable, but Izuku would be wrong to assume that anyone would refute what the explosive blonde had claimed.

Why were they still looking at him? Couldn't they see that Izuku was cowering in his seat? Couldn't they see that the Great Bakugou Katsuki had defeated the Over-Ambitious Quirkless Deku that had stood in their midsts?

Their eyes felt sticky on his skin. He couldn't help but think back to his freckles and hair, dirt and weeds and the too big uniform on his back. His cheeks feel like they're covered in dust and his face itches just thinking about it.

He tucks his forehead against his palm in an attempt to keep people from looking at him, but it's no use - they continue to gawk at him as if they were on a school trip to the museum. Colors swirl around him so brightly that it burns his eyes to look at. He could hear some of his classmates awkwardly giggling in the still air. Every little thing drew his attention to the point where it was maddening. It was too much. The world felt as if it were revolving and he were staying still until he collapsed against the weight of it. His stomach dragged from underneath him. He felt like he was gonna be sick.

His chair drags against the floor when he stands up too quickly. Izuku flinches against the sound in his ear and he raises his hand quickly.

"Sen-Sensei! May I go to the…. nurse's office? My stomach isn't feeling, uh, well?"

Izuku reaches for his notebook and rushes to the front of the room, grabbing the pass from his teacher's hand and stumbling out the door in his haste to leave. The second he makes it out of the door the air immediately turns fresh and Izuku gulps at it as if he were a drowning fish.

Izuku had forgotten how strenuous stairs could be, but he's reminded as he jogs up them, his legs slowly giving out beneath him. By the time he reaches the top, his breath is coming in fast pants and his cheeks are tinted a soft pink.

For the first time that day, Izuku wishes that he hadn't run out of his apartment this morning if only to grab his lunch. His stomach is storming beneath him whether from nerves or hunger, he's not sure. He stops once he reaches the roof, glad for the respite. He crumbles his teacher's note in his hand, shoving it into the back of his notebook. Instead, opening the notebook to the first page. Tufts of All Might's hair poke out at him from the page, hidden behind a shaudily drawn green suit.

For a while he just sits there, staring through the page and wishing the future weren't so far away.

Izuku had all afternoon to make up a lie to tell Katsuki, but his mind had been drawing a blank all morning. The way Katsuki's shoulders tensed at the mention of high school applications, coupled with the fact that Katsuki could see right through him didn't lend him any creative strength.

But the real problem is that Izuku wanted to tell him. He wanted the words to pour out of his mouth until he had exhausted his vocabulary and needed to ask Katsuki for his dictionary. He could just imagine looking at him and spilling his every single thought until his soul had been dripped dry. But when he had looked at Katsuki this morning, the words had stuck in his throat like a stone in his trachea. And suddenly he didn't want him to know. He would rather everything be okay, and if not, then he wanted to at least act like it was, just to realize that pretending hurt even worse. But that knowledge didn't help the fear dissipate from inside his chest.

He wanted to shout from the edge of the roof that he had applied to U.A. and that he was going to work his hardest to make it. He wanted to be happy. But he wasn't and it was hard for him to understand the sap that felt like it was pouring out of his heart and coating his insides.

When Izuku hears the door to the stairwell open, it's a lot tamer than he would have been led to believe. The door clicks open, that small sound sending chills down Izuku's spine. His eyes snap shut, but when a bright red door blinks at him from beneath his eyelashes he slams them back open. A slow trickle of fear slides down the back of his throat, splashing around in his stomach before he has time to digest it.

"Deku," Katsuki growls against the lump in his throat.

Izuku turns his head towards him. He's not sure why, but just looking at him makes his eyes burn with the need to cry. Whenever he's around the boy, he can't help but feel overwhelmed with how many emotions swarm his brain and bat at his thoughts.

"Did, did you know that smiling will make you happier?" Izuku blurts. "Not the emotion- not, not that smiling is emotion, but not happiness. Like the action? Of smiling? Will make you feel better? Your mind will tell you that you're happy if you just smile. And I read that it only takes 12 muscles to smile- that sounds like so little. Don't you think, Kacchan? Doesn't it sound so easy?"

Katsuki's forehead scrunches over his eyes like he can't believe that Izuku is still talking. Izuku can't believe it either. He really wishes that he had shut up somewhere in that slab of words, or better yet, that he had never said anything at all.

Katsuki storms towards him, his steps cracks of thunder against the roof. He balls his fist against his side. Izuku's eyes flicker between his hands and his eyes. Despite how many times him and Katsuki have argued, he's always taken aback by the anger in his eyes. Izuku feels as if he were set on fire just from his looks alone.

Izuku sees Katsuki swing his right hook seconds before it hits his face, but he can't help but think that he deserves it. Izuku gets shoved away hard enough that he lands in a heap on the ground. He flinches when Katsuki's palms give off a loud blast above him. He can feel the heat on his face, but he's more concerned about the hearing loss that he's sure to have when he's older.

He hears his notebook hit the ground and he can see the pages swarming around him and Katsuki

Izuku hunches towards the ground, trying to get as far away from him without scrambling backwards. "P-please, Kachan, I dont-don't want t-to f-f-fight-" he sniffles. He was so tired of crying.

"It's because of U-fucking-A, is it?" He quietly growls, "You worthless piece of crap." He reaches down and pulls Izuku towards him by the collar of his uniform.

"I bet you left Auntie crying at the ass-crack of dawn," he spits towards him. "All so that you can chase some fucking pipe dream. You think you can get into U.A.? You think you can stand a chance against me?! You think you're better than me?!"

"That's not- that's not what I-I'm saying at all, Kachan! I think you're amazing!"

"And I think you're a piece of shit," he spits. "You think _you_ can be a hero?"

Izuku doesn't want to look at him. He doesn't want to answer because he _knows_. He's heard what Katsuki has said his entire life and yet….

"It's worth a try," and he smiles against the grit in his teeth and the ache in his heart. He keeps his head downcast, but he's careful not to stutter his words.

"You're _quirkless_," he snarls. Izuku can see Katsuki's uvula when he opens his mouth that wide, and he can smell the cereal he had for breakfast on his breath. "You're _useless_."

Izuku wishes Katsuki would just hit him. He can feel the bruises forming around his heart until it feels tender and overused.

"You think you can beat All Might? You think you can beat _me_?! You're _nothing_. You're a stone beneath my foot and I'll crush you to dust until you're fucking dead."

_He's right._

Izuku wishes it would stop.

_You're nothing. You're not worth anything. He's right._

Izuku wishes his thoughts didn't sound so sad. They sound disappointed, saturated in the color blue and dipped in the ocean until they make his insides soggy and damp.

Katsuki grabs Izuku's notebook from the ground. His eyes focus on the title for a few seconds that drag into eternity. A loud pop goes off and Katsuki hurls the notebook off the side of their school building. The pages fly everywhere, along with Izuku's thoughts. He can hear it land with a splash in the courtyard and he wishes he could have gone with it.

"He-!" Izuku shuts his mouth with a click. He knows better than to speak. He knows by now that his mouth won't form the words, and Katsuki won't listen to him anyway.

Katsuki looks back up to where Izuku is cowering in front of him. Izuku can see the wall just behind his eyes.

He looks so mad.

"If you really want a quirk so bad," he drawls, "why don't you do us all a favor and take a swan dive off the roof and hope for one in your next life." He shoves Izuku out of his grip, letting him shatter to the ground and leaving him to pick up the pieces.

Izuku thinks back to why he was so scared of that bright red door.

_Because he always says exactly what I'm thinking. And my thoughts are so ugly_.

Izuku wishes that door had stayed shut.


	3. Chapter 3

Izuku's heart beat is bouncing around the inside of his chest as if it wanted to remind them that he was alive.

It felt similar to the cruel taunts that would drip from his childhood friend's lips, but this almost felt worse. It pounded inside his ears, trying its hardest to set a rhythm for his breathing against the erratic pulling of his chest. Every noise drained from his ears, until the world was painted in a pale gray color and sounded like pounding. Izuku's hands gripped the edge of the roof, the color leaching from him through the small scapes on his fingertips. He felt like the world was eating him alive from the inside out.

He shifted his hands, his eyes getting drawn to the brownish-red paint his fingers leave behind on the short wall edging the roof.

He felt a weird mix between panicked and indifferent. His mind was bouncing off of the nooks of his brain until his head was throbbing. His chest was drowning out the sound around him. His lungs wanted to clutch at the air surrounding him, but his body wasn't doing anything he wanted it to do. He wanted to breathe, scream, and cry. He wanted to run away, he wanted to collapse, he wanted someone to catch him and he wanted to be completely alone. He didn't know. He couldn't figure out what he wanted, what he needed. He couldn't think and yet his head wouldn't _shut up_.

His palms ached from when he caught himself on the ground earlier.

His shoulders were emanating heat from where Katsuki had burned him. His thoughts felt distant when he realized that he would have to replace his uniform.

His chest felt as if it were off attending the opera, a symphony cascading inside of his chest.

A bird chirps in his ear, and he startles.

"Ngh," he stumbles backwards, falling against the ground. His hands fly from his sides to protect his face, and his butt aches from where he falls. A shockwave runs from the base of his spine, itching at his back.

He looks at the bird, small and white with disgruntled black spots on its wings.

A loud wet sniffle fills his ears with seawater. He releases the stale breath he was holding.

He wonders how even that can make him sound like he's trembling.

His eyes can't seem to settle on one thing. They flit from the bird to the door, to the pond below him and the pages of his notebook still caught in the sky.

He feels small.

He feels condensed to a peach pit in his stomach. When he looks at his palms stretched behind him they feel distorted, like he could reach miles away with long gangly accretions of flesh that hang off of his torso.

When he staggers to his feet he feels as if the world were collapsing beneath him. He stumbles, expecting for the roof to fall from underneath his feet and for his knees to collapse into air.

He expels all of his breath from his lungs until it feels like they'll fall into themselves. He holds his lungs still, his breath held, in the hopes that he would stop shaking. He glances down from the edge of the roof. His eyes catch on his notebook, serenely soaking in the school pond. He sees white and orange blotches of it's fish swimming closer and closer to the pages he had spent hours etching his thoughts and whims into.

Before, his notebook had been a small oasis for him to drink from when he felt his lips crack in a desert of…..so many different things….

_Loneliness_

_Heartache_

_Shame_

_Guilt_

He felt like he was surrounded by villains on all sides.

His attempts at **Smashes!** were pathetic little things.

No matter how many hours he stared at something, there was never a sudden pull in his chest. He could puff up his cheeks all he wanted, but no fire filled his throat. He didn't become big, he couldn't run fast, or throw hard.

He was left with nothing to do but smile. His teeth split a canyon in his face and it felt like a constant battle to not cry.

His eyes flutter back to the pond.

That wasn't his notebook anymore. It was ripped from his hands. It had been defiled in a fit of rage, and he couldn't find any semblance of relief in seeing it torched and soaking.

His breath pushes air through his teeth, in and out, until the insides of his cheeks feel chilled and dry from the air. He ungrits his teeth, screwing his mouth open in an attempt to get more air into his lungs. His teeth feel sore, like they would retract and hibernate inside his gums if that were an option.

Air puffs from his lips in quicker and shallower succession. His lungs feel like they're in a very small box inside of him. His ribs press against it from all sides. It was hard to gasp for air without it hurting.

He held his breath instead.

His thoughts surround him in a monsoon from all sides of him until he feels cramped in the middle of the roof, as close to the sky as he can get without a quirk.

**You don't understand how fragile you are.**

It had never been clearer to Izuku how small and vulnerable he was. His mother was wrong when she said that. Izuku knew better than anyone else just how frail he was.

Izuku pushes against the edge of the roof, tucking his knee against his chest. He pushes up with a soft grunt, his feet finding purchase in the wall as he clamours for the top.

**You think **_**you **_**can be a hero?**

It wasn't that he thought he could be a hero. It was that he couldn't seem to want anything else. Izuku went to bed dreaming of this. He breathed for this, he moved for this, it was the only thing keeping him going.

Maybe that just meant he was pathetic.

He looks down towards the bottom and his eyes flicker to his notebook. He glances at splotches of white stuck in tree branches, and then his eyes pan up towards the sky.

**You're **_**useless**_**.**

Izuku gathers his voice at the base of his throat, trying to push it through the quicksand filling his mouth.

He takes a big breath-

**You're **_**nothing**_**.**

-as big as a yawn-

**I have to protect you.**

-as much as his lungs will take until his chest _aches_.

**Take a swan dive off the roof.**

He tries to yell. But what comes out is a strangled gasp, his high pitched voice higher than normal when he squeaks out, "I'm apply- applying to U.A!"

The birds chirp at him from where they're picking apart his notes, already beginning to build nests from it.

His nose meets his brow when he screws his eyes shut. He tries his best to dispel the heat beneath his eyelashes and the fire in his stomach. He wants to puke.

**I'm sorry, Izuku.**

He expels the air from his lungs, letting the wind dry his tears and take his thoughts with it when it leaves.

**I'm so sorry.**

He clenches his fists-

**You can't be a hero.**

-takes a breath-

And screams.

"I CAN BE A HERO," he shouts for the sky and the birds to hear.

A bird turns to stare at him from their perch on the tree.

"Hah," he breathes out.

"Hahah," a grin splits his face and suddenly, he's giggling.

The bird chirps at him and he laughs harder. His cheeks feel like they're stuffed with cherries, round and bright red.

It was getting hard to breath around the warmth in his chest.

He gets down on his knees, trying to shuffle off of the side of the roof. He feels so silly. He started sputtering to himself in embarrassment when his feet can't touch the ground before dropping down the half an inch.

He wipes away to salt on his cheeks, giggling against the ocean in his lungs.

_I'm so stupid_, he huffs at himself, but this time it doesn't feel doused in self-hatred like it normally does. This time, it felt kind of like an inside joke with him and himself. He couldn't stop giggling. He'd missed acting stupid, like a kid.

He was clutching his stomach in wonder at the last time he had laughed so hard and his cheeks had ached so much. He hadn't realized that he had missed it so much, or even that it had been gone.

He wished it would never end.

And he was scared for when it would.

He slowly became aware of the fact that his stomach hurt. The air was warm enough to coat him in a thin layer of sweat. Katsuki's pants dragged behind his ankles. He shuffled through the halls, feeling lucky that they were empty.

He rubbed at his cheeks with his palm, trying to get rid of his grin.

He wasn't sure if it had been a good or bad day, but he was certain that he was happy right now.

He felt so happy that he could cry. He felt almost overwhelmed by the soft feeling of flannel in his chest. Below him his stomach was stumbling. In the moment, it was hard to believe he had felt so down just minutes ago.

Izuku starts to build a fire in his chest, letting determination lick its way through his limbs. He had decided - he wasn't going to care what anyone says to him! He just needed to keep his head up and believe in himself! It wasn't something that he had much practice in, but it was better late than never.

He thinks back to the way his happiness settled in the bottom of his stomach, and the power that he felt when he had shouted off of the rooftop. His arms had felt so light, it was like they were flying on their own, anchored down by his torso.

He just needed to keep thinking about it. He needed to keep his head up and his eyes forward. He needed to train his eyes on Katsuki's back until it was burned into his vision and would drive him forward without a thought. He was so far ahead of the boy that it was startling, but Katsuki had always been in a league of his own.

It was hard not to get discouraged, but it couldn't hurt to try!

Despite the slow trickle of confidence that had been sliding down his spine, he's still hesitant to make his way home. No matter what he feels, he knows that the moment he walks through the front door, he'll be expected to bow his head and apologize for the way he acted and the way he pushed.

He doesn't even mind that so much. He's willing to apologize if it will make his mom smile again. He's tired of being the reason she cries so much, the reason she worries. He could swallow his bite-sized pride and apologize for her.

The problem is that when he does, it goes without saying that he thinks she's right. It reaffirms in her mind that he can't be a hero. He can't be _anything_, except her little baby boy that she has to swaddle in hugs because the world is going to break him if she doesn't.

And he can't help but think that maybe he's a bad person, for not wanting that.

When he was a kid he used to love her hugs. She was soft, and squeezed just the right amount. Her hair smelled like apples, and her perfume like cinnamon and sugar. When he came home from school he would run into her arms hard enough to make her stumble and laugh and he would laugh too. But now it didn't feel like that. When she hugs him, it was still soft, and she would ruffle his curls, and she still smelled like apple pie. But when she hugs him it doesn't feel like laughter and joy and love. It felt frail - and heartbreaking. Like she thought he would break if she weren't there to gather all of his pieces in her arms and keep him from falling apart. Like he was already broken. But Izuku couldn't help but think that maybe he was the one holding her together.

When he thought of it like that, it was easy to understand why she wouldn't let go. He wasn't sure if he would be able to, either, and he was sure that it would hurt even if he could.

Maybe he was a bad person.

But the point stood that Izuku didn't want to go home. Not quite yet.

Instead, he picked his notebook from the pond, quickly shooing away any preying fish. He was hesitant to wipe his wet hands on Katsuki's pants, even though he had to get him new ones.

He makes his way down the street, sure to head in no particular direction.

It was a weird feeling, having nowhere to go. He was alone, he knew that, but he didn't feel lonely. He felt free, only tainted by the fact that eventually he would have to go home and the next day he would have to go to school. It's hard to imagine that life could ever be any different.

He kicked his red shoes against the pavement as he walked, trying to imagine what his life might be like as a pro-hero. It felt fuzzy, kind of like a child's drawing that was left half unfinished, but there was a feeling that felt clear and defined. It was the feeling he got whenever he stood in front of someone. Even when he was terrified and his lungs were trembling, when he would step in front of Katsuki blocking the view of someone behind him. It was a feeling he had trouble finding a word for, but that's what he dreamt of. It wouldn't go away, even when he would inevitably get cornered later that day.

'Cornered' felt like an inadequate word, but that's what it felt like, like he had nowhere to turn.

Or maybe crowded. Overwhelmed. Ambushed and alone.

He turned his eyes towards the ground, trying to bury his eyes in his hair. They didn't want to be saved by a Deku.

He couldn't blame them.

Heroes were meant to be strong. He was anything but.

He couldn't blame them.

It was his fault. All of it. Everything. He couldn't do anything right, and that was just a fact. He had a hard time believing that everyone, every single person, would tell him so if it weren't true.

He kicks his foot harder against the ground as he walks. It bounces around the roof of the tunnel, and he gets a small respite from the sinking sun.

There's a soft clanking of metal just behind him. He wants to dismiss it as a squirrel playing with a can, but it sounds deeper, heavier, louder.

A ladybug climbs up Izuku's spine when he hears a slow, wet, rattling breath.

"A medium sized body...to hide in." It's no more than a lick of breath, but something about it felt wrong. It made his ears itch at the sound of it.

He's careful to avoid tripping on Katsuki's pants as he pivots to look back and he feels his stomach flinch.

Normally, any quirk is able to fill Izuku with a strange inspiration that can lead to hours of incoherent babbling, but when he sees a tall pile of ooze in front of him, pulling himself from the sewer hole, his tongue sticks in his throat.

"Don't worry," they say as they sidle closer, "It'll only hurt for 45 seconds."

A pocket of dread fills Izuku's chest.

They split down the middle, spreading out like a blanket before encompassing him. Izuku feels almost numb, kind of like this might be a very poorly conceived dream. The slime feels warmer on his skin that he thought it might, and it jolts him from his thoughts, or lack of one.

"No- nugh," he says when the slime moves to cover his mouth. He can feel them slick between his teeth, the consistency of yogurt.

"Calm down," they coo in his ear. "It'll all be over soon." Izuku feels their grin rather than sees it, "You're a real hero, kid."

He coughs, trying to hold back a gag.

It was getting harder for him to breath, and he couldn't tell if it was from the ooze in his mouth of the panic in his chest. It felt like the physical embodiment of one of Izuku's panic attacks, but no soothing words or deep breaths could free his lungs from the fire they were currently burning in.

His lungs felt like charred heaps, slowly sinking in on themselves until they were microscopic and Izuku was left wondering if they ever existed to begin with.

His hearing goes first, washing away in an ocean of white noise. There's a ringing in his ear that he knows isn't real, and he can't hear the taunts from the slime monster inside his lungs anymore.

Next comes the pressure building in his chest and behind his eyes . He feels like he's the inside of a bottle rocket, about to pop from the space inside of him being filled.

He slowly wonders what it would look like if he just…._popped. _His intestines would fly around like confetti painting the cover of the tunnel a pretty red color.

He giggles against the slime coating the inside of his tonsils, but it sounds just like the constant choking he's been doing since he was first attacked.

He can't stop thinking about how ridiculous it would look.

The newspapers would be covered in a random account, "And he went 'pop'," they would say, "And then there was confetti everywhere."

He sneezes. He knows that the lack of air is making him delirious, but his thoughts feel slow and trickling like molasses pouring over cold rocks.

Black stars dance on the sides of his vision, pebbles pelting the sides of his eyes. His arms are going numb and he can't find the energy or motivation to keep clawing at the slippery man in his lungs.

Izuku comes to the conclusion that he's going to die.

He gives a strong, wet cough, but it doesn't do anything. His throat feels as if it were twirled in twine. Water pours from his eyes in bucketfuls, making it even harder for him to see. He wonders if the villain can tell the difference between himself and Izuku's snot and whether or not he's disgusted by the little boy cowering underneath him.

Izuku wants to breath. He's gasping for breath, trying to convince his lungs not to breathe in even when they're on fire.

He screws his eyes shut. He doesn't want to see the green film covering his face, or feel the way that the slime is clammy on his skin.

He holds his breath, and thinks about his mom.

The way she smiles and frets.

His mind floods with the realization that she's going to cry when she hears that he's dead. His heart clenches harder in his chest, and he throws the thought away.

He thinks about how gravity pulls at her hair. How it's long and straight, and she almost always wears it back. It's the same color as the slime coated curls on his head. He used to tug on her hair as a kid, and he realizes that he never apologized. Or said thank you- and that when he left this morning she didn't wish him a safe day and he didn't say he'll be careful or that he loves her or that he'll be home in time for dinner.

He gags.

**I'm sorry, Izuku**.

His vision is almost entirely black, and while he's never been scared of the dark before he can't stop the fear from crawling it's way up his chest and bile from making its way up his throat.

_I'm sorry too, mom._

**I'm so sorry.**

_**I love you.**_

He thinks about her smile. How bright it is. How it used to remind him of All Might. He stops pressing his lips into a thin line and he grins like All Might. Like his mom. Like everything was going to be okay, even if it wasn't, if only he was smiling.

He chokes on the slime filling his mouth.

The last thing he sees is the sunset at the end of the tunnel. Yellow and orange and red. The colors bleed together before everything goes black and he thinks that for just a second he sees the flash of a grin, and a bright blue jumpsuit brighter than the sun at the end of the tunnel.


End file.
